Guest Story, Part 2

Remember, Elizabeth wrote this story...for history or creative writing or something :).

Covered Wagons and Steam Trains

“Peter! You’re as bad as the rest, keeping poor Charlotte from her story, and Nellie too!” cried his wife.
   
“Oh, Hettie, they can afford to wait a trifling moment, we’re hardly started on our long journey,” he contended.
   
“Well, well, well,” cut in Grandfather, “I’ll start again, and this time, no interrupting.” He gave Robert and his son a knowing look.
   
“When I was a little boy,” and he paused to make sure everyone was listening, “there were no trains to ride to and from all the states in our great country. There were no steamboats passing down rivers and canals.”
   
Robert groaned. He was remembering the time he got sick on a steamboat. Trains are much, much better, he thought.
   
Then he realized everyone was looking at him, and he straightened up in his seat.        

Grandfather went on, “When I was your age Nellie, a young lad of eleven, my father decided to move out west, down to the wilderness of Kentucky. We packed up our belongings, well some of them, and drove out in a covered wagon. My brother James and I were sad to have to leave some of our things behind, and our little sister Edith cried her eyes out because she had to leave her doll's cradle, but Papa promised to make her a new one and she soon was happy again.”
   
“I have a cradle for my dollth!” Charlotte exclaimed.
   
“So you do, my little Lottie, so you do...and Papa sold our beloved ponies to buy some oxen to haul the wagon.”
   
“How awful!” cried Nellie, “What were their names, Grandfather?”
   
“Pet and Spot, the sweetest ponies in the world. But don’t feel bad, they went to a little girl in the town about your age, who took care of them well.”
   
“How do you know, Grandfather?” Robert asked.
   
“When I came back to visit when I was older, I found them in perfect condition, perhaps better treated than we had treated them, and they had had a colt named Sugar.”
   
“Sugar, oh Sugar! She was a sweet pony, aptly named, I daresay.” Mother interposed.
   
“How do you know, Mother?” queried Nellie.
   
“Why, I used to ride Sugar all the time.”
   
“The same one? Why, were you the little girl who kept them?” asked Robert.
   
“No, No!” Mother smiled, “I wasn’t alive back then.”
   
“Who was it, Grandfather? I can tell you wish us to know, the way you’re smiling.” Nellie declared.
   
“That little girl was your grandmother, your father’s mother.”
   
“You married the little girl with the horses!” Robert cried.
   
“Yes, I married her, and she came back to live with me in the Kentucky wilderness.”
   
“You took the hortheth with you, didn’t you, Grandfather?” Charlotte asked with pleading eyes.
   
"Oh, yes, Charlotte...As I was saying we traveled to Kentucky in our covered wagon with some of our belongings and settled down near where we all live now. There's a big difference between now and then. I had to travel on a horse many miles for many days to go see my old home and my dear Agnes, for that was her name. But...your brother Percy only has to travel a couple days on some new-fangled train to visit his family and someday soon, his ladylove."
   
Grandfather's eyes twinkled, Father winked at Charlotte, Mother sighed, and Nellie giggled while Robert slouched in his seat, his arms folded, and rolled his eyes. Grandfather grabbed Robert's ear and pulled him up straight, all the while grinning from ear to ear and teased, "Someday you too, Robert."
   
"Ha!" cried Robert, his face red with embarrassment.
   
Several days later, the Weston family, including Percy, were all dressed up and riding in a carriage to a Christmas party. There was a glorious spread of food: turkey, ham, potatoes, green beans, corncakes, cranberry sauce, jellies and preserves of every kind of fruit, and delicious pies and cakes. Robert stuffed himself and then he and Nellie retreated to a corner when the music began and partners shuffled onto the dance floor.
   
Out of the corner of her eye, Nellie saw Percy approach a young lady, the same Percy who a year ago would have shuddered to even think of such a thing, and after a moment, they were seen gliding together toward the dance. She nudged Robert towards their direction and whispered, "See! Grandfather's right! He always is, isn't he?"
   
Robert made a face, strode over to the table, and popped a pickle in his mouth.

                    The End

Guest Story

Since I haven't started writing a new story yet about the Parker family, I decided to post a new story I'd written to keep people entertained. Perhaps you can pretend that Elizabeth wrote it, and then it will be associated with the Parker family.

Covered Wagons and Steam Trains
  
Nellie gazed out the window, watching trees and buildings fly by. What fun it is to ride on a train! she thought. Nellie and her family: her father, mother, younger brother Robert, and younger sister Charlotte, along with her grandfather, were traveling on rails to bring her older brother Percy home for the Christmas holidays. Percy was away at boarding school in New York, far from their home in Kentucky, and Nellie was very excited to see him.
  
“How long it has been since we've seen Percy!” she cried aloud to no one in particular.
  
“Indeed!” replied her grandfather, “but, we are quite blessed to be able to see him at all during his time in school.”
  
“How come, Grandfather?” inquired Robert.
  
“Why?” corrected his mother, straightening her bonnet.
  
“Yeth, why Grandfather?” lisped Charlotte, “Grandfather will tell me, won’t he?”
  
“Yes, I will,” assured Grandfather, pulling the little girl on his lap. “You see, when I was your age...” and he paused while Nellie and Robert scurried over to his seat on the train and snuggled close to him, their eyes bright with anticipation.
  
“Go on, Grandfather,” Nellie exclaimed. “I love to hear your stories of when you were little like us.”
  
“Of course, I was just waiting for you to get ready,” he replied, adjusting his cap on his head. “Ahem,” he cleared his throat.
  
“Oh, get on with it, Grandfather!” demanded Robert.
  
“Robert Cole Weston!” Father scolded, “Respect your elders!”
  
“Beg pardon, Grandfather,” Robert uttered ashamedly.
  
“You are entirely forgiven,” Grandfather responded, “I was impatient when I was a little boy like you too.”
  
“But I’m almost nine! I’m not so little!”
  
“True, True! I was impatient to grow up too.”
  
“Grandfather, pleathe tell uth the thtory, pleathe,” begged the little one on his lap, patting his leathery cheek.
  
“Oh, dear, I’m sorry, quite forgot, quite forgot,” muttered Grandfather, “Well, let’s see, where was I? Ah! Yes! When I was a little boy...”
  
At this, his son let out a little chuckle.
  
“Peter! You’re as bad as the rest, keeping poor Charlotte from her story, and Nellie too!” cried his wife.
  
“Oh, Hettie, they can afford to wait a trifling moment, we’re hardly started on our long journey,” he contended.

Lockets and Baseball Gloves, Part 2

When we last left our heroine, Elizabeth, her brother was asking if she knew why his glove was out in the rain.

"Do you know why it was out in the rain?"
    Elizabeth turned red, "Wh-Why, do you think I did it?" She hid her face in her book.
    "Well, I was just asking," he replied. "I didn't think you would leave it out." He turned to his younger brother, "Harry, do you know?"
    "No, but I'm terribly sorry it's ruined."
    "I don't know," called Susan from the kitchen, "Maybe you should ask Helen."
    "Helen didn't do it," replied Harry, her twin.
    "Well," John sighed, "maybe it was just an accident."
    You need to tell him, the quiet voice commanded, You've felt miserable all day.
    If you tell him, whispered the tempter, He'll be really mad at you, and you'll have to pay for it.
    You'll feel much better if you do, replied her conscience.
    Thus the battle went inside of Elizabeth. She knew her conscience was right; she felt terrible.
    That night, Elizabeth was in her room reading-or trying to read-her book. All of a sudden she thought, Where's my locket? It's always around my neck. Maybe the clasp broke on the chain, and it fell off?
    She ran out of the room, "Has anyone seen my locket?" she called. She asked Harry and Helen, Susan, and Mother and Dad.
    Then she went into John's room. He was looking at his glove when something fell out of it.
    John picked it up.
    "My locket!" Elizabeth gasped. "It must've fallen in the glove when..." she stopped short.
    "Here," said John, handing it to her, "I wonder how it got there?"
    Elizabeth burst into tears, "It-It's my fault. I was upset that you ripped my special apron, so I-I-I tore your new glove and left it out in the rain. My locket must've fallen off my neck when I was messing with it," Elizabeth sobbed, "I-I'm sorry, do you forgive me?"
    "Yes," replied John, "I'm sorry I ripped your apron, I didn't mean to."
    Elizabeth felt like an enormous load was lifted off her shoulders. She felt free!!!!!
    "I forgive you," she replied.


                                                                      The End


I should be back later this month or the next to tell you another story. I'll give you a teaser...

Susan's Art Project
Susan has been assigned an art project for school and she is terribly excited about it. But is anything safe from the ever-prying hands of Helen and Harry??

Welcome! Lockets and Baseball Gloves, Part 1

I am here to say, Welcome to My Third Blog! I was originally going to have a page on my main blog that told stories of the Parker Family, but I decided that it would be better as a blog. So here it is! And here is the first part of the first story in the Parker Family Chronicle, Lockets and Baseball Gloves:

Lockets and Baseball Gloves

    Elizabeth pulled the dishes out of the cupboard. It was her turn to set the table for supper. She usually didn't mind; it gave her time to think about different things.
    But today she wanted anything but time to think. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the baseball glove out in the rain with the beautiful leather all torn up.
    John started it, Elizabeth thought. No, you know he didn't rip your special apron on purpose, said her conscience.
    Sure he did, whispered the tempter, John deserves to have a ruined baseball glove.
    You need to tell him, the quiet little voice encouraged.
    "Elizabeth! Why are you standing there?" Mother asked, "It's almost time for supper. Set the table!"
    Just then, John walked in the door.
    "Dad," he said, "that baseball glove I got for my birthday is great! It fits almost perfectly!"
    Elizabeth almost dropped the cups she was holding. If he knew...she thought.
    "Well, son," replied Dad, "I'm glad you like it. Make sure you take good care of it."
    This is too much, thought Elizabeth. Suddenly, she heard a clatter. She looked down; she had dropped all the forks she was carrying.
    "Rinse them off with hot water," Mother commanded, "And please," in a kind tone, "watch what you're doing."
    "Yes, Mother," she replied, sullenly.
    "And the leather is so nice and soft," continued John. "All the boys at church say it's the nicest glove they've seen."
    "Yes," Dad agreed, "it should last a long time."
    Elizabeth knew that if she had been holding anything that time, it, too, would have gone clattering on the floor. She knew her stomach had almost hit the floor.
    When they all sat down for supper, Elizabeth asked, "May I be excused? I feel sick. Can I lay down?"
    Mother looked with concern at Elizabeth, "This is your favorite meal. Are you sure?"
    "Oh, yes," Elizabeth nodded, "If I didn't feel so bad, I'd gladly eat my favorite meal."
    "I guess so," replied Mother, "I hope you feel better."
    Elizabeth turned and ran upstairs.
    The next afternoon, Elizabeth didn't feel much better. She sat on the couch reading when John came running in from outside.
    "I finally found it," he said, a little tremulously.
    "Found what?" asked Elizabeth.
    "My glove, but it-it's ruined."
    "I-I'm sorry," stammered Elizabeth.
    "Do you know why it was out in the rain?"

To be continued...