wolf."
The water was warm in the washbasin for him, and while he washed and combed his hair at the bench by the door, Laura set the chairs to the table and Ma poured the fragrant tea.
The hot cakes were good, with crisped slices of fat pork and the brown-and-amber grease from the pan, and dried-apple sauce and sugar syrup besides.
There was no butter, for Ellen was nearly dry, and Ma divided last night's milk between Grace's cup and Carrie's.
“Let's be thankful for the little milk we have,” she said, “because there'll be less before there's more.”
The y were chilly at the table so, after breakfast, they all gathered around the heater. In silence they listened to the winds and the sound of snow driven against the walls and the windows. Ma roused herself with a little shake.
“Come, Laura. Let's get the work done. Then we can sit by the fire with an easy conscience.”
In that well-built house it was strange that the fire did not warm the kitchen. While Ma put the beans to parboil and Laura washed the dishes, they wondered how cold it was now in the claim shanty. Ma put more coal on the fire and took the broom and Laura shivered at the foot of the stairs. She must go up to make the beds, but the cold came down the stairs and went through her woolen dress and petticoats and red flannels as if she were standing there in her bare skin.
“We'll leave the beds open to air, Laura,” said Ma.
“They're upstairs out of sight and you can do them when the house warms up.”
She finished sweeping and the kitchen work was done. The y went back to the front room and sitting down they put their cold feet on the footrest of the heater to warm.
Pa went into the kitchen and came back in his big coat and muffler, his cap in his hand.
“I ' m going across the street to Fuller's to hear the news,” he said.
“Must you, Charles?” Ma asked him.
“Somebody may be lost,” he answered. Putting on his cap he went to the door, but paused to say, “Don't worry about me! I know how many steps it takes to cross the street, and if I don't strike a building then, I'll go no farther away till I do find one.” He shut the door behind him.
Laura stood at the window. She had cleared a peephole through the frost but she saw only blank whiteness. She could not see Pa at the door nor tell when he left it. She went slowly back to the heater. Mary sat silently rocking Grace. Laura and Carrie just sat.
“Now, girls!” Ma said. “A storm outdoors is no reason for gloom in the house.”
“What good is it to be in town?” Laura said. “We're just as much by ourselves as if there wasn't any town.”
“I hope you don't expect to depend on anybody else, Laura.” Ma was shocked. “A body can't do that.”
“But if we weren't in town Pa wouldn't have to go out in this blizzard to find out if somebody else is lost.”
“B e that as it may be,” Ma said firmly, “it is time for our Sunday school lessons. We will each say the verse we learned this week and then we'll see how many of the old lessons we remember.”
First Grace, then Carrie, then Laura and Mary, and Ma repeated their verses.
“Now Mary,” Ma said, “you tell us a verse, then Laura will do the same, and then Carrie. See which one can keep on longest.”
“Oh, Mary will beat,” Carrie said, discouraged before she began.
“Come on! I'll help you,” Laura urged.
“Two against one isn't fair,” Mary objected.
“It is too fair!” Laura contradicted. "Isn't it, Ma?
When Mary's been learning Bible verses so much longer than Carrie has."
“Yes,” Ma decided. “I think it is fair enough but Laura must only prompt Carrie.”
So they began, went on and on until Carrie could remember no more even when Laura prompted her.
Then Mary and Laura went on, against each other, until at last Laura had to give up.
She hated to admit that she was beaten, but she had to. “You beat me, Mary. I can't remember another one.”
“Mary beat! Mary beat!” Grace
The water was warm in the washbasin for him, and while he washed and combed his hair at the bench by the door, Laura set the chairs to the table and Ma poured the fragrant tea.
The hot cakes were good, with crisped slices of fat pork and the brown-and-amber grease from the pan, and dried-apple sauce and sugar syrup besides.
There was no butter, for Ellen was nearly dry, and Ma divided last night's milk between Grace's cup and Carrie's.
“Let's be thankful for the little milk we have,” she said, “because there'll be less before there's more.”
The y were chilly at the table so, after breakfast, they all gathered around the heater. In silence they listened to the winds and the sound of snow driven against the walls and the windows. Ma roused herself with a little shake.
“Come, Laura. Let's get the work done. Then we can sit by the fire with an easy conscience.”
In that well-built house it was strange that the fire did not warm the kitchen. While Ma put the beans to parboil and Laura washed the dishes, they wondered how cold it was now in the claim shanty. Ma put more coal on the fire and took the broom and Laura shivered at the foot of the stairs. She must go up to make the beds, but the cold came down the stairs and went through her woolen dress and petticoats and red flannels as if she were standing there in her bare skin.
“We'll leave the beds open to air, Laura,” said Ma.
“They're upstairs out of sight and you can do them when the house warms up.”
She finished sweeping and the kitchen work was done. The y went back to the front room and sitting down they put their cold feet on the footrest of the heater to warm.
Pa went into the kitchen and came back in his big coat and muffler, his cap in his hand.
“I ' m going across the street to Fuller's to hear the news,” he said.
“Must you, Charles?” Ma asked him.
“Somebody may be lost,” he answered. Putting on his cap he went to the door, but paused to say, “Don't worry about me! I know how many steps it takes to cross the street, and if I don't strike a building then, I'll go no farther away till I do find one.” He shut the door behind him.
Laura stood at the window. She had cleared a peephole through the frost but she saw only blank whiteness. She could not see Pa at the door nor tell when he left it. She went slowly back to the heater. Mary sat silently rocking Grace. Laura and Carrie just sat.
“Now, girls!” Ma said. “A storm outdoors is no reason for gloom in the house.”
“What good is it to be in town?” Laura said. “We're just as much by ourselves as if there wasn't any town.”
“I hope you don't expect to depend on anybody else, Laura.” Ma was shocked. “A body can't do that.”
“But if we weren't in town Pa wouldn't have to go out in this blizzard to find out if somebody else is lost.”
“B e that as it may be,” Ma said firmly, “it is time for our Sunday school lessons. We will each say the verse we learned this week and then we'll see how many of the old lessons we remember.”
First Grace, then Carrie, then Laura and Mary, and Ma repeated their verses.
“Now Mary,” Ma said, “you tell us a verse, then Laura will do the same, and then Carrie. See which one can keep on longest.”
“Oh, Mary will beat,” Carrie said, discouraged before she began.
“Come on! I'll help you,” Laura urged.
“Two against one isn't fair,” Mary objected.
“It is too fair!” Laura contradicted. "Isn't it, Ma?
When Mary's been learning Bible verses so much longer than Carrie has."
“Yes,” Ma decided. “I think it is fair enough but Laura must only prompt Carrie.”
So they began, went on and on until Carrie could remember no more even when Laura prompted her.
Then Mary and Laura went on, against each other, until at last Laura had to give up.
She hated to admit that she was beaten, but she had to. “You beat me, Mary. I can't remember another one.”
“Mary beat! Mary beat!” Grace
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