The Endearment by Lavyrle Spencer Page A

that swung on hand-carved wooden hinges. When James opened it, he was surprised at how very cool it was inside. The soft sand around the spring had been hollowed out, shored up and formed a wide bowl in which earthen jugs and crocks were partially submerged. The crystal-clear water purled with a whisper around the jugs, then wended its way out below the walls again. In one corner was a leather bag hanging above a pail where Karl placed his chunk of charcoal.
    "What're you saving that for?" James asked.
    "This is my lye leach. The water drips from the bag onto the charcoal, and slowly lye is made. The bag is empty again, so I must refill it." He stooped to do so. "With it we make soap and tan leather and many other things. You could be a help to me if you would check the water bag when you come in here, and always keep it filled and dripping. But I must warn you, there are times when we must test the lye to see if it is strong enough. Then I must find a prairie chicken egg and float it. When it sinks, this tells me the lye is ready. The lye in the cup will look so much like tea a person could not tell the difference. Never leave it in that cup. If it was mistaken for tea and somebody drank it, this would be a disaster." The bag was again filled and hung. The regular plops of the dripping water accented the constant music of the spring, the smell of the damp wood.
    "Gosh, Karl, did you think this up all by yourself?" James asked, taking in the entire structure.
    "No. My father taught me this, too, how to make a springhouse, when I am only a tad like you."
    "In Boston we got water from out back in barrels where they came and filled them every other day or so. Seems like it never tasted fresh. This water's the best I ever had. Hey, Anna, come and try some."
    James passed the dipper to his sister, while Karl looked on expectantly. It was water such as she'd never tasted in her life. It was so icy it hurt her teeth, making Karl laugh when she grabbed them with her fingers to warm them. But that didn't stop her from drinking again and again while Karl watched with pleasure in his eye.
    "It's good," she said, when she'd finally drunk her fill.
    "It is plenty close to the house, and even closer to where the new log house will be. Enough good, fresh water, and close enough to the house that a lad has little excuse for not keeping clean with it, huh? I think maybe it is time we filled a couple of these buckets and let the water lose its chill for later. What do you say, James?"
    "You mean for washing?" the boy asked.
    The tone of his question made Karl ask, "Do you object to washing?"
    "Well, I never been much for bath-taking," James admitted.
    "Such a reply for a tadpole. Anna, what have you taught the lad? In Sweden a boy learns right from the start that in all of nature, animals clean themselves to keep healthy. A boy must do the same."
    But James said, "Anna's not much for baths either."
    "She's not?" Karl said before he could stop himself. He was beginning to realize that a lad of thirteen could be an embarrassment to an older sister. "Well, when you have only a barrel in your backyard it is a problem. Here there is no such problem. There is the spring here, and the pond and the creek. Plenty water for everything."    
    Anna could have kicked James into the spring! It was true she hated baths, but did he have to spew out the fact to Karl first thing?
    "Come. Fill yourself a pail, boy, and take it back to the house. Tonight we will baby you a little bit and heat the water. Most times I will not warm it up. It is refreshing, and makes you want to work hard to get warm fast."
    With filled pails they trudged back to the house, and the subject of baths was blessedly dropped. Anna, however, was well aware that Karl was outside at what she'd guessed to be the washbench. He shaved before supper while she explored things around the kitchen end of the house, peeking inside barrels and tins and crocks. There were odd-looking foods, some of