old robin is the early bird that catches the worms.” Back home in his workshop, he’d clean what needed cleaning and fix what needed fixing. Then he’d sell it all at Greenfield’s flea market.
His truck creaked to a stop at the Aldens’ fence. “Mornin’,” he called.
The children waved. “Good morning, Mr. Robbins,” said Violet.
“And why, may I ask, are the Alden children up and out so early in the day?”
“We’re having a yard sale,” said Benny. “Do you think people will buy our things?”
Mr. Robbins laughed. “Benny, my boy, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. Just because you’re done with a thing doesn’t mean someone else can’t make good use of it. Good luck,” he said, his truck rattling off down the alley.
Henry finished sanding his cashier table and set it on top of two sawhorses he had found in the garage. Next, he set out their money box, which was really an old fishing-tackle box that Grandfather said they could use for the sale. Yesterday, Henry had cleaned out all of the rusty hooks, broken bobbers, and dried-up rubber worms, then gave the box a good scrubbing. Now he made a sign for his table:
$$ CASHIER, PLEASE PAY HERE $$
“I’m ready,” he said.
“Me, too,” said Violet.
“Me, three,” said Benny.
What they needed now were customers.
Their yard-sale signs worked! All day long, people strolled through the Aldens’ backyard. A few came just to see the famous old boxcar that stood next to the fountain in the garden. But nearly everyone bought at least one thing. And Violet’s lemonade and cookies were selling fast!
By four o’clock, the last few shoppers had left the yard. Henry’s tackle box was crammed with coins and bills. He looked at his watch. “Time to stop for today,” he said.
Benny frowned at the nearly empty tables. “We hardly have anything left!”
“That’s great,” said Henry. “We want to sell our old stuff to make money to buy something new.”
Benny still looked unhappy. “But our signs say the sale is Saturday and Sunday. What will we sell tomorrow?”
“Wait,” said Violet, running into the house. She came back lugging a shopping bag filled with her Prairie Girls adventure books. “I’ve read these so many times, I know them by heart.” Now that she’d turned ten, she was ready to read something new. Benny helped her put the books on a table.
“I’ll go collect the signs,” said Jessie, “so they won’t be ruined if it rains tonight.” She wheeled the wagon out of the yard.
Henry unstuffed the money from the box and made piles of one-, five-, and twenty-dollar bills. Next, he sorted the pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters into the tackle box compartments.
“How much did we make?” asked Benny.
“I don’t know yet,” Henry said. “We’ll count it together when Jessie comes home. Meanwhile, we can clean up.”
A skinny woman wearing a floppy hat wandered into the yard. Her big sunglasses made her look like an owl. The cart she pushed overflowed with old silverware, teapots, dolls, and lace. Clearly, she had been to many other sales that day.
“Sorry,” Henry said, “but we’re closed. Please come back tomorrow.”
“I’m just looking,” she snapped, wheeling her cart from table to table. “Just looking.”
Violet wiped the lemonade table with damp paper towels, then packed the leftover cookies into plastic bags to sell the next day.
“What can I do?” asked Benny.
“You can bring me the boxcar donations,” said Henry.
Benny ran back to the old railroad car. A poster set against a tree stump said:
Tour a real boxcar, $1.
All tour money will be donated to the
Greenfield Homeless Shelter
A large metal Crispy Crackers can sat on the stump near the sign. When the Alden children lived in the boxcar, they heated their water in this can. Now, instead of water, the old green can was filled with dollar bills.
Benny brought it to Henry.
“Great,” said Henry “We’ll count this
His truck creaked to a stop at the Aldens’ fence. “Mornin’,” he called.
The children waved. “Good morning, Mr. Robbins,” said Violet.
“And why, may I ask, are the Alden children up and out so early in the day?”
“We’re having a yard sale,” said Benny. “Do you think people will buy our things?”
Mr. Robbins laughed. “Benny, my boy, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. Just because you’re done with a thing doesn’t mean someone else can’t make good use of it. Good luck,” he said, his truck rattling off down the alley.
Henry finished sanding his cashier table and set it on top of two sawhorses he had found in the garage. Next, he set out their money box, which was really an old fishing-tackle box that Grandfather said they could use for the sale. Yesterday, Henry had cleaned out all of the rusty hooks, broken bobbers, and dried-up rubber worms, then gave the box a good scrubbing. Now he made a sign for his table:
$$ CASHIER, PLEASE PAY HERE $$
“I’m ready,” he said.
“Me, too,” said Violet.
“Me, three,” said Benny.
What they needed now were customers.
Their yard-sale signs worked! All day long, people strolled through the Aldens’ backyard. A few came just to see the famous old boxcar that stood next to the fountain in the garden. But nearly everyone bought at least one thing. And Violet’s lemonade and cookies were selling fast!
By four o’clock, the last few shoppers had left the yard. Henry’s tackle box was crammed with coins and bills. He looked at his watch. “Time to stop for today,” he said.
Benny frowned at the nearly empty tables. “We hardly have anything left!”
“That’s great,” said Henry. “We want to sell our old stuff to make money to buy something new.”
Benny still looked unhappy. “But our signs say the sale is Saturday and Sunday. What will we sell tomorrow?”
“Wait,” said Violet, running into the house. She came back lugging a shopping bag filled with her Prairie Girls adventure books. “I’ve read these so many times, I know them by heart.” Now that she’d turned ten, she was ready to read something new. Benny helped her put the books on a table.
“I’ll go collect the signs,” said Jessie, “so they won’t be ruined if it rains tonight.” She wheeled the wagon out of the yard.
Henry unstuffed the money from the box and made piles of one-, five-, and twenty-dollar bills. Next, he sorted the pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters into the tackle box compartments.
“How much did we make?” asked Benny.
“I don’t know yet,” Henry said. “We’ll count it together when Jessie comes home. Meanwhile, we can clean up.”
A skinny woman wearing a floppy hat wandered into the yard. Her big sunglasses made her look like an owl. The cart she pushed overflowed with old silverware, teapots, dolls, and lace. Clearly, she had been to many other sales that day.
“Sorry,” Henry said, “but we’re closed. Please come back tomorrow.”
“I’m just looking,” she snapped, wheeling her cart from table to table. “Just looking.”
Violet wiped the lemonade table with damp paper towels, then packed the leftover cookies into plastic bags to sell the next day.
“What can I do?” asked Benny.
“You can bring me the boxcar donations,” said Henry.
Benny ran back to the old railroad car. A poster set against a tree stump said:
Tour a real boxcar, $1.
All tour money will be donated to the
Greenfield Homeless Shelter
A large metal Crispy Crackers can sat on the stump near the sign. When the Alden children lived in the boxcar, they heated their water in this can. Now, instead of water, the old green can was filled with dollar bills.
Benny brought it to Henry.
“Great,” said Henry “We’ll count this
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