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.